Angela Hewitt’s selection of some of her favourite
Fauré pieces means that we probably can’t expect a collected
edition of the solo piano works from her. Nevertheless, she has long
been an adherent of the composer, and he forms part of her long-established
French repertoire, only a smallish part of which she has recorded.

She has selected one of his masterpieces, the Theme and Variations,
Op.73, the first two of the four Valses-caprices, three of the Nocturnes
and the early, and not wholly representative Ballade, which is also
known in its version for piano-and-orchestra, which Hewitt has also
played in concert.

She plays this repertoire with real vitality and extroversion. The first
of the Valses-Caprices is artfully, indeed lavishly introduced, and
presented as a glittering fantasy of rhetoric; maybe it sounds arch
to those used to more sober readings but it’s certainly an arresting
point of view. A plainer-speaker, such as Jean Hubeau, responds more
peaceably, more domestically, if you will; Hewitt certainly makes it
seem a bigger piece, with more pressing contrasts, almost to the point
of being parodic of the form itself. Bigger, then, certainly, but the
downside is sometimes a reluctance to relax into a phrase. But as with
the second caprice, there’s a real communicative spirit at work,
fluent, searching for colour and drive; playing of great digital assurance
and sophistication.

When it comes to the Nocturnes her playing reminds me a little of Jean-Philippe
Collard - though not of her erstwhile teacher in this repertoire, Jean-Paul
Sévilla, whose recordings of Fauré, regrettably, I find
unconvincing, even drab. Her sense of phrasing and sense of continuity
in the three Nocturnes is Collard-like in intimacy and sensitive proportion.
She tends to point up the bass line, too. Don’t be taken in by
the apparently very slow tempo for the B minor; it’s nearer to
8:13 than 8:29. It’s nevertheless more leisurely than most performances,
but is still warmly textured and doesn’t sound especially slow,
much less laboured. Curiously, though not so slow, this was a Nocturne
that Germaine Thyssens-Valentin also took time over, and she wasn’t
known especially for slow tempi. Her recordings of the composer’s
music are now on Testament and are indispensable. Fine though Hubeau
is here, if a little withdrawn, it’s Collard and Hewitt who are
the more imaginative in the Nocturnes. The Ballade has been recorded
by musicians such as Paul Crossley and Kathryn Stott but it still remains
under-represented on disc. It’s an early lyrical work, splendidly
conveyed here.

Which leaves just the Theme and Variations: she makes something of a
dogmatic meal over some of the articulation of the Theme - it sounds
very imposed - but once past that the playing settles down. The variations
are unfolded with nuance and subtlety, even though I still find Collard
the more naturally felicitous performer in this piece. There are, for
example, just a few exaggerations in Hewitt’s playing of the third
variation.

In this repertoire Thyssens-Valentin’s 1950s recordings remain
the most inspirational and often unexpected, though some have questioned
her textual accuracy. Hubeau is a safer performer, but Collard’s
youthful readings still retain their marvellous freshness. Hewitt’s
single disc selection offers extrovert vitality, and some personalised
moments alongside them. The recording, much like the playing itself,
is excellent.